


Snapshots

by Duckgomery



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Aster doesn't, Aster is aussie as, Daddy Issues, Gen, Hiccup puts up with so much, Human AU, Jack is still the little shit we all have come to love, Jack is the best pet-sitter, Jack's a little shit, Jamie has it hardest of all, Manliest flower shop ever, Manny kind of inferred but not really, Mary-Katherine-Elizabeth, North takes festivities serious, Onesided Jack/Hiccup, Other, Pitch is ridiculous, Pitch totally doesn't have an extensive collection of gossip magazines, Pitch wants his coffee but the universe conspires against him, Poor, Sandy loves being cryptic, Shovel Talk, This Old House, Tooth is a real harpy at times, dieting, don't mess with Sophie, don't mess with her, it's all up to youuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu, let's get those going, more characters to be added when relevant, more relationships to be added when relevant, more tags to be added when relevant, no denying, poor Jamie, she's borderline devious, yet is still scared as shit of his dad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-19
Updated: 2013-12-17
Packaged: 2017-12-08 22:35:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/766813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Duckgomery/pseuds/Duckgomery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes there are stories to be found in the mundane, everyday events.</p><p>Spin-off work for 'This Old House'</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Of Shovels and Talks

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, guess who's back?
> 
> After seeing the overwhelming response to 'This Old House', and after a few requests and questions, I've decided to launch the spin-off series a bit sooner than first planned.  
> These are all going to be scattered about, order wise, but I'll try to remember to include where abouts in the original series each part is roughly set.
> 
> This first part, set shortly after 'Sick Day', is the much anticipated shovel talk. Though I think I should warn you ahead of time, it was one of those prompts I started working with, but then it got away from me.  
> Hope you enjoy regardless.

 

                 Jamie woke up slowly, content for the moment with basking in the warmth beneath the covers. His boyfriend, whose bed they were currently wrapped up in, was curling into his side.

                As much as Jamie loved Jack, with the few weeks they had officially been together, the guy was nothing but knives.

                There was no chance Jamie was going to be able to get back to sleep.

                Slowly prying himself out of Jack’s vice-grip, Jamie stands and stretches, before looking back with a smile. Pulling the sheets back over Jack, he wonders what he could do until Jack joins the world of the living.

                It didn’t look like it would be anytime soon.

                Pulling on his jeans, Jamie checks his phone.

                A few messages from friends, all of them making Jamie bring his hand up to cover his mouth, so as to not wake Jack up.

                They were all idiots, but they meant well.

                Finally checking the time, it became apparent why his friends had sent what they sent.

                At least it was the weekend; neither of them had to worry about missing classes, both having well and truly crossed the point of not even worth trying to get there.

                Maybe he should be a good boyfriend and bring Jack a late brunch or something. Coffee at the least.

                With a plan in mind, Jamie finished redressing, opened the previously drawn curtains to let the midday sun shine through, and left the room.

                All kitchens were the same, more or less. How hard could it be?

 

               All kitchens weren’t the same.

               Jamie walked into the room he kind of remembered passing the previous night, though to be honest, he was quite distracted at the time.

               Jack’s mouth on his collarbone tended to do that to a person.

               Brushing his hand over his more likely than not hickey covered neck, his previous smile vanished when he came to see the five sets of eyes fixed on him.

               The looks were much alike those that animals give when sizing up their next meal.

               And that’s when it hit him.

               “Oh my god, I’m going to kill him.” Jamie, still standing in the middle of the room, hid his face in his hands, muttering threats and curses under his breath.

               Tooth and North shared concerned looks with the other three. Shrugs, head tilts, and widening eyes were exchanged.

               Was the kid alright?

               Tooth was the one who eventually voiced the growing shared concern between the rest of them, to which Jamie snapped out of whatever it was he’d fallen into.

               “I can’t believe he didn’t tell me!”

               “Tell you what?”

               Jack called from the doorway, self-satisfied smirk on his face.

               Jamie’s mouth opened and closed a few times, before he settled on just glaring at his once darling boyfriend.

               “You,” Was all Jamie hissed, pointing at Jack with an unsteady finger.

Jack just laughed, wrapping an arm around Jamie, as the taller boy hid his face in his hands once more.

               “Guys, this is Jamie. Jamie, this is Santa, Perky, Charlie Chaplin, Dundee,” He points to each respective person, some names rewarding him with looks of amusement, others of outrage (Aster), before his directing finger was pointing at Pitch.

               “And I think you know who that is, isn’t that right?”

               “Oh my god, I’m not talking to you. This is me not talking to you, alright?” Jamie calls out before leaving the kitchen and climbing back up the stairs.

               Hiding out in Jack’s room seemed to be the best course of action.

               Pulling out his phone, Jamie opens up a new message, fingers flying across the screen in their fury.

_You are dead to me._

               Feeling his phone go off, Jack pulled it out, ignoring the questions being thrown his and Pitch’s way.

               “Stop asking, Toothiana, I’ve never met the boy before.” Pitch snaps, not comfortable with the un-just interrogation.

               It wasn’t supposed to be him on the poking end of the stick. This wasn’t the plan.

               “Are you sure, mate? Looked like he knew you. Was absolutely mortified, the poor kid.” Aster offers, before looking over to the now cackling Jack.

               “Is there anything you’d like to share?”

               Jack waved a hand at them before passing his phone over, message for all to see.

               “I think I’m in the dog house, but so worth it.”

               The others were confused that a threat like that would get such a reaction out of Jack.

               Maybe they should’ve intervened sooner if this was the sort of person Jack ended up with.

               “Before you get the wrong idea though, his reaction was more than I could’ve ever dreamed of.

               “Oh and Pitch, let’s just say he’s your number one fan.”

               As he laughs his way up the stairs, the other’s sit quietly, letting the new information process.

               All of a sudden, they felt sorry for Jamie.

               They were going to have to sit Jack down for a talk.


	2. Ink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes your friends are filthy enablers and allow you to make 'terrible' life choices.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, chapter two. I'd have to say order wise, that this would have been before 'Father Figure'. Not much else to say other than the fact that we all know what dragon it is, and I totally do not have a ship shining through here, not at all.

 

                Hiccup’s leg continued to jitter. Up and down, up and down. Over, and over, and over.

                It was starting to get on Jack’s nerves.

                “Do you think you could calm it, Hic?” Jack offered, smile straining.

                They were the only two sitting in the waiting room, and the pressure building up was beginning to get to the both of them.

                “Sorry, Jack. Just freaking the fuck out over here,” Hiccup laughed.

                Normally Jack loved the sound Hiccup made when he laughed. But now, now it sounded forced. A short bark as opposed to the goofy honking. This was more than enough to tell Jack that Hiccup was terrified, the boy always using humour as an attempt to cope with stressful situations.

                “Hey, remember, this was your idea. No chickening out now.”

                Hiccup kept his mouth shut, not taking the bait.

 His leg started to shake once more.

 

                Jack looked up from his phone when the buzzing came to a stop.

The sound had become a constant over the past half an hour and the silence that followed just felt foreign.

                Sending off a quick reply, Jack stood and made his way over to the counter, waiting for Hiccup to come out of one of the adjoining rooms.

                Soon enough he was joined by his now pale, clammy, but over-all chuffed looking best friend.

                Hiccup pulled out his card, the motion awkward and shaky with having to use his right hand, but at least he was standing.

                Jack would lose some money to that fact.

                With a final confirmation on the care procedure required, he two boys left the parlour.

  
                “Well now, let’s see. Show me, show me, show me.” Jack whines, pulling on Hiccup’s sleeve, earning a wince from the brunette.

                “Can’t you wait until we’ve sat down somewhere before you start with your harassing?” Hiccup looks over, raising an eyebrow as Jack ponders, only ‘slightly’ over-exaggerating the gesture.

                “I don’t know? Maybe I’d be more inclined to agree if someone shouted lunch.”

                Shaking his head in exasperation, Hiccup takes the lead, directing the two of them towards what looks like a burger bar.

                “You’re impossible, you know that?”

                Jack’s grin in response was all the answer that was needed.

 

                “Wow, now that’s a nice design. Whoever came up with it must be an artistic genius, the next van Gogh.”

                The two were seated in one of the many booths lining the walls of the eatery.

                Hiccup rolled his eyes for the umpteenth time that day.

                “Yeah, yeah, thank you, oh visionary, for offering your exceptional skills in this, my first tattoo.”

                Neither could contain their snorts after that failure of an Italian accent. It was one of the few that Hiccup could never manage to get the hang of.

                “Still though, it looks good.” Jack offers, leaning back into the deceptively hard seat.

                Hiccup looked down at his uncovered arm, a fondness in his eyes as he took in the black dragon, mid-swoop, inked onto his forearm.

                It had been a creature he’d first come up with as a child, when imagination had been his only friend.

                After describing it, and handing over some illustrations he’d made of it over the years, Hiccup was amazed with the results that Jack had produced. It was almost as if his friend had seen the very beast that Hiccup had dreamed up with his own eyes.

                It was simply perfect to Hiccup.

                Not only did he have his old friend emblazoned on him, he had a constant reminder of his now dearest friend.

                Food and drinks were deposited in front of them, and the two boys tucked in.

                “Have you told your dad you were getting it done, or is it long-sleeves and jumpers until you move out?” Jack queries, his mouth full of food.

                “Let’s just say I hope for a mild and merciful summer.” Hiccup shoots back with a laugh.

                “Well, my bed and couch are always open for you, my dearest little Hic.” Jack coos.

                Hiccup responds with reaching over and grabbing a handful of Jack’s chips.

                It was just nice to know that he had someone to turn to at the end of the day. It was something that he was still learning to get used to. None the less, it was nice.


	3. The beats that shall not be named

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to ~S~ who gave me the lovely suggestion that I just couldn't not do.
> 
> Mary. Katherine. Elizabeth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. Been working on this one on and off for the past week between uni, assignments, work and sleep. Haven't had a chance to properly edit it, but I"m running on less than three hours of sleep and am in the middle of class, so I say that's as good a time as any to upload because I'm full of great life choices.  
> Pitch is ridiculous, but then again, what's new.

                It started with a sneeze.

                Not to say that sneezing, in and of it-self, is unusual, it’s just that this sneeze indicated that all was not what it seemed.

                “Bless you.” Tooth calls, nose stuck deep in the pile of papers she was grading.

                Aster snuffled out a ‘you’re welcome’, wiping his nose on his forearm before going back to washing up.

                “Isn’t it the wrong time of year for hay-fever?” Jack calls up from his position beside Tooth. Helping he called it. Paper-weight claimed Tooth.

                “Damn straight, don’t know what could be causing this, not like there are any animals in this place. God I hate allergies.” Aster whines as manly as he could muster.

                Jack laughs.

                “I thought that you Australians’ were supposed to wrestle animals, be one with them and everything?”

                Tooth continues going over the page in-front of her, despite the fact that all marking that needed to be done on it had long since been accomplished.

                “You need to stop watching so much tellie, barely a lick of it is true.” Aster shoots back, after a sneeze or three.

                “What about the spiders?” Jack swaps over the paper in-front of Tooth.

                “Except the spiders.” Aster admits, trauma evident.

 

                “I think we may have rats.” North declares one night, everyone seated around the table.

                “That would explain a thing of two.” Aster mutters, still heavily congested.

                A few bites into the meal later, curiosity gets the better of one of them.

                “Why would you say that?” Jack queries, eyes turned to North, plate now neglected.

                A kick under the table from Pitch makes Jack pick up his fork again, taking a deliberately large mouthful and pointedly looking at Pitch.

                “Well, there is scratching in the night, and the couch has tears on its side, from them climbing. Makes sense, no?”

                Pitch stiffens and takes effort not to meet anyone’s eyes.

                Jack files this information away for later.

                “Maybe we should set some traps up, just to be safe.” Tooth offers.

                Sandy nods in agreement.

                With a decision made, they all go back to finishing their dinner.

 

                “So, what are you hiding?”

Pitch jumps at the voice, more flailing than pivoting to face its owner.

                “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Jack. I’m not hiding anything.”

                A raised eyebrow tells Pitch that Jack isn’t buying it.

                The silence stretches on until Pitch concedes defeat. He really needed to come up with a defence against that expression Jack uses. It wasn’t fair how much that boy could get away with.

                “Fine, but you have to promise not to tell anyone. Are we clear?”

                He points a finger at Jack, in hopes to make the threat be taken somewhat seriously.

                Jack still beamed like a kid on Christmas morning.

                That kid was too smug for his own good, Pitch thought to himself before reluctantly leading the way to his room.

 

                Jack was expecting a lot of possible things, but the sight of a puffball with a face that made it look like it had run into a brick wall, several times, wasn’t one of them.

                “What the hell is that?” he deadpans, eyes flicking over to Pitch, who has taken long strides over to the monstrosity.

                The beast was just eating up with the attention that the man was bestowing upon it.

                “Her name is Mary-Katherine-Elizabeth, and isn’t she just the prettiest girl you’ve ever seen.” Pitch coos down at the black thing, now in his arms.

                Mary-Katherine-Elizabeth looks over at Jack with her bright yellow eyes.

                The two come to a mutual understanding.

                “You have to be kidding with that name?”

                The cat yowls in agreement.

                “Not at all. It’s a gorgeous name for my gorgeous girl.” Pitch defends.

                Jack chooses not to comment on it any further, but made a mental note to ask Tooth if she had any desperate, single friends.

               

                Since Jack was aware of the existence of Mary-Katherine-Elizabeth, though he swore that Pitch said it Cat-erine, he was given some responsibility for the animal.

                Of course, this meant that he had a lot of power over Pitch at this point in time, which he didn’t abuse in the slightest.

                Jack was also a gossip.

                “Mary-Katherine-Elizabeth?” As Jamie utters the name he looks distraught. It was hard to know that the author of some of your favourite books named his cat such.

                “Yup, and you should see this thing, ugly as can be.” Jack laughs.

                “Mary. Katherine. Elizabeth.”

                “I think it’s supposed to be a Persian, though it’s really hard to tell. That thing just isn’t cat shaped.”

                “Mary.”

                “Like what does he even feed that thing?”

                “Katherine.”

                “And the way it looks at you, like it thinks it’s all high and mighty and that you should be lucky to be honoured by its presence.”

                “Elizabeth.”

                Jack pats his boyfriend’s face in a comforting gesture.

 

                “Jack, I’m going to be out of town for the night so can you make sure Mary-Katherine-Elizabeth is alright?” Pitch whispers at the kitchen table which Jack is half sprawled across. Just because the boy was out of bed didn’t mean he was awake.

                “Sure, I’ll feed that thing, but compensation.”

                Pitch had hoped Jack would’ve been to out of it to reap.

                “Fine, there’s a twenty in it for you if you do it.”

                No response.

                “Okay, fifty, you happy?” Pitch hisses, eyes darting around the room to make sure no-one else was listening in. Luckily it was still just the two of them.

                Jack hums in agreement and repositions his arms so they act as a more comfortable pillow.

 

                Evening struck, and with Pitch being away, Jack figured it was about time that he fed the ‘cat’.

                He swung the basement room’s door open, but didn’t anticipate the fact that Mary-Katherine-Elizabeth would take the opportunity to make a mad dash for freedom.

                The beast hit his legs with enough force to momentarily knock Jack off balance, and then disappear up the stairs.

                A crash sounded from upstairs.

                “Shit.”

 

                When Pitch walked through the door the next day, he was called into the lounge room by Jack, whose voice sounded strained.

                This set alarm bells ringing.

                His princess better be alright.

                Jack looked sheepish, not meeting Pitch’s eyes, though the man had enough attention directed at him.

                “So, care to explain?” Aster shoots, voice stuffier than ever.

                Sandy sat on the other side of the room from the Australian. Mary-Katherine-Elizabeth sat in the small man’s lap, an expression of pure bliss on her face as Sandy scratched that spot under her chin she just adored.

                “Jack,” Pitch growls.

                “Oh no, this is yours, you explain.” Aster has to pause before sneezing a few times.

                Tooth and North looked amused at everything that was unfurling.

                “I’m sorry, I didn’t expect her to bolt, she never did with you, how was I to know?”

                Accepting the explanation, Pitch looks over to the cat and its seat.

                “Well, no harm done,”

                “What do you mean no harm? I can barely function! Get rid of that blasted thing.” Aster shouts out, eyes watering.

                “Well there is nothing saying I can’t have a pet, and no prior agreement was made about that subject either. Also, she’s not a thing, she’s a gorgeous girl, isn’t that right, Mary-Katherine-Elizabeth.” What started off as a lecturing tone ended up in near baby-talk.

                The cat’s tail begins to flick about and everyone exchanges glances that Pitch is blind to.

                ‘I know right?’ Jack mouths to Tooth, who barely can suppress her laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The naming process was quite the task. After discussing it with a few friends, we had a list of names from greek mythology, but then came to the conclusion that this is Pitch's cat. As such, it had to be ridiculous. I did not spend an hour in class looking at pictures of ugly persian cats, not at all.
> 
> Please, if it's not to much trouble, send more prompts in. It's been so fun working with what you guys have been suggesting so far, let's keep this going XD


	4. Carb-free Wednesdays: Origins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Diets are fun, fun, fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha, it's been awhile, and for that I'm sorry.  
> This was quite a popular request, so hopefully I've done it justice.

 

                New Year’s meant many things.

                Staying inside to avoid the cold, winter weather.

                The tail end of the Christmas holidays.

                Drinking like your liver personally wronged you.

                But most important, to Tooth at least, was the resolutions.

                And like the majority of the female populous, she had chosen to lose some weight in the New Year.

                A diet was needed.

 

                The first day of the New Year, nothing drastic changed.

                More due to the fact of being severely hung-over and not being able to stomach food for the majority of the day.

                Good enough.

 

                By the end of the second week, she’d cut out her sugar-free soft drinks in their entirety.

                Artificial sweetener was her only crutch.

                She hated salad by this stage, stabbing at it accusingly with her fork as meal time rolled around.

                The other occupants knew to keep their distance by this stage.

 

                By the first month marker, Tooth stood on the scale, having just finished showering, and glowered down at the number being shown.

                Pitch, being the unfortunate person who happened to be passing the bathroom at that time, was subjected to the normally polite and kind lady screaming profanities and threats at the poor appliance in nothing but her towel.

                Action had to be taken.

 

                Tooth sat, sulking, down at the table, eyeing her bran based cereal (all you need for a hot summer body) with scepticism.

                Honestly, she was trying.

                She cut back on the bad foods.

                She kept up regular meal patterns.

                And she exercised when she had the time.

                What was she doing wrong?

                Pitch chooses that moment to drop a small pile of magazines on the table in front of her before fleeing the scene.

                Normally Tooth wouldn’t indulge herself in such things, the gossip generally being cruel and harmful to the celebrity community. But that wasn’t what caught her attention.

                It was the celebrity endorsed diet plans that gave her the next step in her weight loss journey.

               

The juice fast lasted two days.

 

                The Baby food diet lasted until lunch.

 

                The Cabbage soup one was thrown out the window during the process of cooking it, that stuff stunk.

 

                Coming up at a loss, there was only one diet plan that would be possible to maintain with her lifestyle.

                Time to cut out those nasty carbs.

 

                She decided she’s go easy at first.

                No bread,

                No potatoes.

                No pasta.

                She didn’t realise that most of the food she actually enjoyed was comprised of at least one of these three new no-no foods.

                She wasn’t happy to say the least.

 

                “Tooth, we need to talk.”

                She scowls at Pitch, Sandy and Jack, all seated at the table. Even Jack was looking serious.

                “What?” She snaps.

                “You need to stop.” Pitch is the only one to make eye contact with her. His back straight and hands folded in-front of him.

                “Stop what?” Arms crossed in-front of her small chest.

                “This diet you’re on. For one, it’s not healthy, and-“the older man starts.

                “And what!” She bristles.

                “You’re impossible to live with like this.”

                “Why should I stop? It’s working.” Her arms are locked, rigid by her sides.

                “Is it really?” Jack’s voice is a near whisper, arms wrapped firmly around his slight frame.

                The volume and tone work together to bring Tooth down, fists relaxing into hands, which she folds in-front of herself once more.        

                “Well, maybe. These things take a while to set in sometimes,” her voice trails off.

                “Sometimes these things don’t work for everyone, we understand that. But something has to give. Have you wondered why Aster’s been scarce for the past few days? You terrified him.” Both Jack and Sandy start snickering into their hands at this.

                There was nothing like seeing Aster’s face when Tooth ripped him a new one. To be honest, he did ask her to move her ass out of the way.

                Tooth starts to frown again.

                “Not to say we don’t support what you’re doing, but maybe tone it down a tad.” Pitch holds his hands up in hopes of placating the already bristling woman.

                Sandy starts signing to Jack, one of the few people who took the effort into learning the blonde’s preferred means of communication.

                “Sandy raises a good point, how about ‘All for one, one for all’?” Jack looks back to Sandy for confirmation that was what the shorter man meant. Sandy could be quite abstract when it came to how he worded things, preferring instead to rely on images over sentences. Never before had the gesture for horse meant so many different things.

                “What do you mean?” Tooth’s attention was now directed at Sandy, who used Jack as a translator.

                Pitch took this opportunity to sink down into his chair.

                “Well, if we figure out a compromise, and do it with you, will you stop? Like, if you’re keen on the no carbs, maybe we can all commit, for once a-, no, sooner? Yes. Once a week or something. If we have a set day or something then there isn’t any chance of flaunting no go foods and stuff.”

                Sandy nods, hands tucked once more into his lap.

                “Alright, but I don’t think that’s the point of a diet,” Tooth looks sceptical.

                “This could be fun though. Just think of the things we could bully Aster into cooking. You know how he is with his rabbit food.” Jack’s buzzing in his seat with the energy that always seems to radiate from him when he gets swept up in an idea of one sort or the other.

                Unfortunately for Tooth, this energy is contagious.

                “Fine, we’ll have a trial run, for now. I promise nothing though.” She points a finger at the three of them, letting the trio know that if anything happens, it’s on them.

                “Now that’s over, I say we go back to bed. Some of us don’t have to do anything today, and we’re out of milk.” Pitch leaves the room with a swish of his ratty old dressing gown. Sandy and Jack follow his lead not too long after.

                Tooth smiles wistfully to herself, pulling the freezer open and grabbing a loaf of bread.

                She felt like toast today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The whole carb-free diet thing was actually something I did for 3-4 weeks the other year. I was miserable on it and took it out on everyone around me. My family actually sat me down and told me I was impossible to live with and to go off it. So yeah, background info for those who wanted to know.


	5. Father's Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why is it never a simple task, getting a cup of coffee in the wee hours of the morning?
> 
> Set before Jack meets Jamie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha, it's been a while. Oops. May be a bit out of practice, but here we have a father's day chapter. Ts means one thing and one thing only, an excuse for Jack and Pitch to have a serious conversation then have it descend to banter, you know how I do this thing by now.  
> Hopefully this is more or less the end of my hiatus of sorts.

               It creeps into those early hours where Pitch knows he has to brew himself a fresh cup of the cheapest stuff he has f he wants to keep up his current working streak.

               When he slowly pulls his bedroom door open, as not to let the squeak that usually results from the action rouse any of his housemates, Pitch sees Jack standing there, hand wavering, but outstretched.

               He smells of sweat, cheap drinks, and sex.

               “Jack? Are you alri-“

               “Can I come in?” The words come fast, and the pitch rises faster.

               Pitch swings the door wider, not carrying if the noise wakes anyone. Jack walks past, taking care not to brush Pitch as he passes.

               Pitch doesn’t fail to notice the slight hitch to his steps, or the way his shoulders shake.

               Closing the door behind them, Pitch reaches up to pull down his spare dressing gown, offering it to Jack. The boy takes it in unsteady hands, and pulls it on. He’s all but drowned in the thick fabric, arms and legs lost within it. They both smile at this.

               Jack curls up into himself on the edge of Pitch’s bed, swaddling himself in the too-big robe, the wall behind him being the only thing keeping him upright.

               Pitch pretends to be editing his latest work, only skipping ahead to make the occasional note when necessary.

               The room is filled with the occasional sniffle and clacking of keys.

               “Hey, do you-“

               Pitch stops playing with the keys.

               “Is there-“

               Jack drops his heavily draped arms away from his face, but his eyes remain fixed to his knees.

               His breathing picks up.

               “Jack, whatever it is, I’m here for you, alright?” Pitch moves over, process only slightly hindered by the carpet beneath the chairs wheels.

               Jack looks up, eyes more green than blue through the tears.

               “Am I a slut?”

               Pitch had been expecting many possibilities, some more likely than others. None came into the same vein as this.

               “What do you mean? What happened?” He’s in-front of Jack now, hand pressing down on the bed hard enough for Jack to feel it was there.

               “I’m just stupid. Why am I stupid?”

               “You are anything but stupid. What happened? Are you alright?”

               Jack wiped his face on the sleeve; eyes refusing to be anywhere near Pitch.

               “He said I looked nice, and bought all my drinks, and was fun to dance with, and even though I knew he was lying about everything I didn’t care because I went out wanting that outcome.” Arms wind back tightly around his knees, chin tucked on top. “It felt good, we both got what we wanted, and then parted ways, but I can’t help but feel dirty.” Jack laughs bitterly. “Can’t believe that the old man’s right, but then again, when isn’t he.”

               Pitch didn’t like the change of tone.

               “What do you mean? What does he have to do with any of this?”

               “He always drilled it into me that I was meant to be alone. That I wasn’t fit for civil company. Reckoned I was better to neither been seen or heard. He just really wanted me to jump when he told me to.”

               Pitch clenches his hand, bunching up the quilt it was previously resting on top of.

               “Sounds like a terrible man.”

               “And what a product he’s created from his treatment.” And back came the dark, biting tone that Pitch knew wouldn’t lead to anything good for Jack’s wellbeing.

               “So why did you think the way to prove him wrong would be to sleep around?”

               The twisted bravado from before left Jack.

               “I just want to prove him wrong, show him in some way that I can be loved. I know it was a stupid leap of logic, but it’s all I really have.”

               Pitch hoists himself out of his chair, sinking into the bed next to where Jack is sitting. He pulls the trembling pile of bones, skin, and fabric into his side with one arm. Jack relaxes into him after a moment.

“I feel stupid.”

               “You smell like a frat party.”

               “I’m experiencing emotional turmoil, plus I gifted you with my tragic past and upbringing, you’re not allowed to critique me.”

               Pitch snorts.

               “I think I’m entitled to a few jibes since you’re getting your stench all over my gown.”

               “Touché. Been meaning to ask, why is this tent I’m wearing pink?”

               “It’s maroon, and it was a gift.”

               “Care to elaborate?”

               “I think we have had enough tragic past revelations for this early in the morning.”

               Jack hums in agreement and the two just sit in each other’s company until Jack has to stretch his legs out.

               “God I hate Father’s Day.” Pushing himself off the plush surface, Jack discards Pitch’s dressing gown, arms raised up stiffly and joints popping from the position.

               “Me to.” Pitch joins him, heading towards the door. “Coffee?”

               “You’re the best.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, tell me what you'd like to see for further installments. Curious to know and see what I can work with :)


	6. The Warren

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flower shops are full of all sorts of pretty things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was briefly outlined months ago, but a recent prompt gave me the necessary inspiration to finalise things for it (THANKYOU ANON!!!) and get this done. Woot. Fiddling around with formatting, try to ditch some old, bad habits, so sorry if things look a little confusing right now.  
> Set before Sick Day of This Old House.

                ‘Such a strong young man, the girls must be all over you.’ Aster looks over to the counter, hoping that either Sophie or Jack would divert the housewife’s attention from himself long enough to escape into the back of the shop.

                He should’ve known better.

 

* * *

 

                The Warren, as he’d named his little store, had been open for business for years. It was something he’d decided on that combined his love for colours, horticulture, and paying the bills. Business was slow, the locals not trusting a tattoo adorned, young foreigner to know pansies from petunias.

                He’d proven them wrong.

                The still small shop had become the place to go for floral arrangements, exotic plants, and to hit on the young store owner.

                He needed more hands on deck.

                Aster was well aware that he wasn’t a ‘people person’, which may have led to employees coming and going faster than a cut flower wilts in a dry room. (something he’d yelled at one of his ex-workers for doing. He’d almost lost a whole back room of flowers because the kid decided that it was too hot and turned the humidifier off.) That was until one Sophie Bennet walked through the door, then stumbled into one of the stands of bouquets, having not seen the obstacle through the blonde curtain that hung over her face.

                Sophie stuck through the worst of aster’s moods, was quick to catch onto how to care for some of his more temperamental bloomers, and had a knack for colour co-ordinating bouquets (though the outfits she put together for herself screamed otherwise).

                Things were fine, life was good.

                The store just had to receive a special mention at that flower show.

                Business boomed. Having to leave the small, brickwork shop to something big enough to keep the supply up to the demand (though he loved that he finally had the space to add a small, proper greenhouse to the back of it). Aster found he had to look for another pair of hands, because he and Sophie were beginning to struggle.

                Asking Jack, his newest roommate at the house, seemed like a good idea at the time.

 

* * *

 

                ‘Pastels?’

                ‘Shut it and chuck this on.’ Aster scowls, throwing the forest green apron with more force than necessary.

                ‘Bunny, you’re late. Hop, hop.’ Sophie pokes her head into the backroom, waving at the new face before returning to the front.

                ‘Bunny?’

                Aster really, really, regretted this.

 

                ‘Do you two want to help me back here, or should I just leave and let you finish braiding each other’s hair?’ Aster calls from the back.

                ‘Jack’s almost finished; we’ll be back there in a minute.’

                ‘My dear, dear Sophie, you have much to learn. We are simply on break, and as such we aren’t required to do anything. Pass me the ribbon.’

                Sophie, Aster could deal with, she was like the kid sister he never had. Jack on the other hand…

                ‘I think someone forgets who deals out the pay checks. I want four more hands back here or we’ll have some “volunteers” for fertilising. I know a few rows that are in need for a pick me up.’

                Jack came running into the room at a breakneck speed, playfully blocking Sophie when she tried to shove past him.

                At least they got on.

                ‘And here I was joking about the hair braiding. That better not be the satin ribbon I use for the nice, expensive arrangements?’ They both just smile at him, and Aster knows he can’t win. ‘Come on, need to moves these into something bigger.’ He orders, raising a bushy eyebrow as Jack goes in search for gardening gloves, while Sophie just digs her hands in.

                Aster eventually sends Jack back out front, just in case they have any customers. Just because the boy is happy to help, doesn’t mean he’s any good at it, and Aster would rather put Jack’s charisma to use rather than put up with seeing delicate roots structures being crushed by the boy’s enthusiasm.

                Sophie’s humming to herself, streaks of dirt on her face from where she’d brushed her air out of her eyes. Despite Jack’s efforts to tie as much out of the way as he could, there was still too many short layers that refused to be confined. She didn’t mind getting dirty though, at that was something Aster appreciated more than anything.

                The bell rings from the front.

                ‘Hi there, can I help you?’ Trust Jack to put the charm on straight away.

                Looking at the clock hanging above the door that leads to the front, Aster realises it can only be one person.

                ‘Just here to give Sophie a lift.’

                Jamie was earlier than he usual.

                ‘Friend, or...?’

                ‘Older brother.’

                ‘Then that makes you Jamie.’

                ‘And you must be Jack.’

                ‘I call cheat, name badge and all.’

                The two boys chatter on and on, and Aster looks over to Sophie, who’s taking her time in finishing up.

                ‘Anything you’d like to share, Ankle Biter?’

                ‘Why would you think that? I accidentally gave the wrong time to my brother, a simple mistake really.’ Sophie stated with a grin stretching across her face. ‘Anything that’s happening is completely accidental and I had no part in it at all.’ She wipes her hands on her work stained overalls (with more colourful patches adorning it than was necessary).

                ‘Jack’s a horrible influence. You never came up with these devious little plans before he came along.’

                ‘I’d say you were more of an influence than he was. What was it you always say? Spring’s about ne-‘

                ‘New beginnings, gotcha. Do you think now’s as good a time as any to interrupt them, or should we wait a bit longer, Little Miss Cupid?’

                ‘I say leave them for a few more minutes, these flowers won’t re-pot themselves after-all.’

                Aster was beginning to hope that he’d never get on Sophie’s bad side.


	7. A Very Merry July-mas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas comes more than once a year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops, been awhile, but here, have a slightly belated Christmas in July installment. A big thanks to Jac, for egging me on to write this part and getting me to do it more or less around the actual holiday time.
> 
> I apologise for this, the series is just me thinking I'm funny and writing crack-ish stuff, though I think I may have unintentionally hinted at some other things that aren't as cracky and that I may have to draw on in further parts. Things are going a bit too hunky-dory for my liking.

 

                “Dear god, Jack, what are you wearing?” Jamie can’t tear his eyes away from the atrocity that his boyfriend is wearing. Glitter, googly eyes, pom poms, and colours that have no place being within each other’s vicinity. Jack looked like he couldn’t be happier.

                “And a merry Christmas-in-July eve to you.” Jack leads the way through the familiar hallway, sleeves dangly to his fingertips.

                “Aren’t you hot in that?” All Jack does is hum in that infuriating way he did, letting Jamie know that he’d heard the question, and just that he’d chosen not to answer it. “Aster hates it doesn’t he?”

                “Glad to see you’re on the same page.” As ridiculous as Jack could be, Jamie couldn’t help but find this petty feud that Jack and Aster had with each other as somewhat endearing. He and Sophie were the same at times. “If you think this is bad, you should see what North’s done. Aster’s going to have a fit when he comes back. Oh I don’t worry, I’ve got you covered.” Jack smirks in the way that tells Jamie that things are not going to end favourably.

                “I’m fine, bought gifts and everything. Nothing to worry about.” Jack’s smirk doesn’t lessen as he swings his door open. Jamie takes one look at what’s laid out on the bed and groans.

                “I told you I’ve got you covered.”

                “It’s a hundred degrees, Jack.”

                “Just wait to see what North’s done.”

 

…

 

                “God damn it, North! I thought we agreed to leave Christmas to Christmas.”

                North looks up from the cookies he’s been meticulously icing, not even having to look in order to swat Sandy’s creeping hand away from the trays.

                “Ah, but that’s Christmas. This, friend, is Christmas in July. Completely Different, yes?” North chuckles as Aster yells and stomps about some more. The slamming door is heard throughout the house.

                The old man didn’t so much as hear Pitch slink by, swiping two of the iced treats away. Sandy followed the taller man out of the kitchen seeing as his job as distraction proved to be a profitable venture.

 

…

 

                “They got you to I see.” Aster grumbles to Jamie, both now wearing the thick, heavy assault to the eyes.

                “Is it always like this?” Jamie whispers back, the two going un-noticed by the rest of the residents, who were having more eggnog than was necessary.

                “North will take any chance he can get. Now if I was you, I’d probably take that funnel away from Jack, and just because Sandy reckons it’s a good idea doesn’t mean that it will be for certain people.”

                “I’m on it. Want anything while I’m up?”

                “I doubt there’s anything left in this place that the crazy bloke hasn’t festified.”

                “I have some beers stashed in Jack’s room. I’ll drop him off, and then we’ll see how Tooth and Pitch are faring. What are they at, ten for ten?”

                “You’re a legend, and its twelve to nine, in Pitch’s favour.”

                “See you in a bit, Jack, how about we don’t do that?” Jamie cuts off, having to intervene before his boyfriend actually manages to hold the position for the improvised keg stand Sandy had come up with involving a funnel and one of the punchbowls full of what had turned out to be heavily spiked eggnog.

                One arm reigning Jack in, whose face was more flush from the copious amounts of booze as opposed to the oppressive heat (North had countered that with the industrial air-con units he’d borrowed from his workshop), Jamie navigates the shorter male out of the lougeroom, taking extra care to avoid the mistle-toe that he know Jack hung everywhere and has been taking every opportunity to lead Jamie under.

                “Come on, Jamie, let’s go this way.”

                “No, Jack, that’s the exact opposite direction we want.”

                “I reckon it’d be a good idea if we go this way.”

                “Well I reckon it’ll be a good idea if we didn’t.”

                “You’re no fun.”

                “And you’re drunk.”

                North chuckles at their bickering from his chair before turning to Aster.

                “See, this is good fun, admit it.”

                “Over my well-done, dead body.” Aster fails to hide his smile.  

 

…

                North hurries to the top-most bedroom with the enthusiasm of a much, much younger person, smile plastered across his face. Not bothering to knock, he swings the bedroom door open, ready to wake up the room’s occupants with holiday cheer.

                He quickly closes the door and makes note for future reference to always, always knock.

 

…

 

                “I still think this is ridiculous, North. For one, we’re all adults, and two, it’s July.” Aster continues to complain to deaf ears. Some people just weren’t festive.

                “Should someone check on Jack and Jamie? They’re taking their time.” Tooth looks towards the doorway of the lounge room, ice clinking in her glass of Sandy’s hangover cure. Pitch snickers at the shade of red North’s face turns. No one volunteers.

 

                “Merry Christmas in July!” Jack crows as he saunters into the room, Jamie looking worn and exasperated behind him.

                “Jack, would you do the honour?” North asks, once more form his chair. It was getting harder and harder for him to get up and down these days.

                “Sure thing, now let’s see what we’ve got here,” Jack rummages under the fully decorated tree.

                Jamie takes a seat on the couch next to Pitch. Mary-Katherine-Elizabeth chooses to seat herself on the newcomers lap rather than remain on her owner’s. As much as Jamie would refuse to admit, he’d grown fond of the beast, name and all.

                “So when did this all start?”

                Pitch looks over to Jamie looking more relaxed than he had in months.

                “Well, a few months after Jack moved in, we had a bit to drink. It turned out that we all didn’t have many fond memories of the holiday, so North decided to change that, and Jack being Jack, decided to help the old fool pursue the idea once we were sober. It’s hard to say who enjoys it more out of the two, but no-one’s complaining. It’s nice to have something pleasant to associate Christmas with.” Both Pitch and Jamie look over to Jack and North, the older taking his time in un-wrapping the present Jack had given him, much to the youngers annoyance. “Sometimes you just need to take advantage of every moment you’ve got. You never know when it’ll all come to an end, after all.”

                Jamie opens his mouth, a question on the tip of his tongue.

                “Jamie, can you be a doll?” Jack calls, waving his camera at Jamie from his position perched on the arm of North’s chair. And like that, the question is pushed aside.

                “Sure thing, Snowflake.” Taking the camera and ignoring his boyfriend’s pout. Jamie doesn’t smile along with the others’ laughter to Jack’s reaction.


	8. Study-palooza

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guess who loves to study for their finals? Also, a new challenger appears. Books also have many uses and origami is an art form that should be mastered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha, whoops. Been five months. Yeah. Haven't been overly motivated and shit,blah blah, blah, writing is hard and confidence with it is at an all time low, so have some shit words strung together into what I guess are sentences.  
> Tuffnut's many talents inspired by the recent Riders of Berk episode. I choose my favs well.

 Exams and finals were a fun, fun time, and the group of young men slumped between books, papers, and piles of fast food containers stood in testament to this fact. Well, Hiccup and Fishlegs slumped. Snotlout, Tuffnut, and Jack being otherwise occupied by something they deemed 'more important' than the state of their grades, as mysterious as they were.

'If you guys aren't going to even try studying then can you at least be quieter so those that want to can?' Hiccup lifted up his glasses as to better rub his face in exasperation at the trio's antics. Fishlegs grunted in agreement, tossing back the luke-warm remains from a previously forgotten cup of coffee, barely grimacing at the taste before flicking back and forth between two paragraphs several hundred pages apart.

'Serves you nerds right for choosing such hard units. Sometimes you need to think about these things.'

'Duh, Snot's right. To the left! Not that left, my left. Wait, the other left.' Tuffnut adds in agreement. Jack compiles with the directions, adding another textbook to the structure that should in every right be deemed a wonder of modern architecture.

'Has anyone seen my text book on the-'

'No!' Three voices cut Fishlegs off, moving around their structure to better obscure any possible titles of possible books that may have been used in it's erection.

'You three are all going to fail.'

'So not. As said, we planned things smart. Easy subjects, easy exams. System is simple and we mastered it.' Snotlout puffs his chest out proudly, almost nudging the western tower of the structure in the process. 'Anyway, me 'n' Tuff have already practiced, so I'm going to ace my German exam.'

Hiccup looked to Tuffnut, who was currently wriggling under one of the many papery archways, on his back, and didn't have the slightest vote in confidence for his cousin.

'Well it doesn't hurt to do a bit more study, don't you think?'

Hiccup decided that Snotlout's fate was none of his business after the look he'd received. Snotlout's plan could blow up in his own face.

Fishlegs closed one of his textbooks, and picked out another from the pile to his left, flicking to the first of many tabbed pages, eyes darting back and forth across the page's surface before he flicked to the next and so on.

'Jack, back me up here and maybe look at a text book or something?' Hiccup attempted to plead as Jack reached up to place a makeshift flag consisting of one of Fishlegs so-far-unnoticed missing note pages folded into the crude shape of a swan if you squinted.

'Would do, Hic, if I didn't already know everything worth knowing. My essay and portfolio already ready for design, up to date with my American History, and Tuff helped with German.'

'Did all three of you take German for the purpose of copying each other?' Hiccup was curious and skeptic, not a good combination for his exam preparation.

'Nope. Me 'n' Snot here took German because easy marks, and Tuff offered to tutor us because he's cool like that. Plus he speaks it better than the teach.'

'Damn straight I am.' Tuffnut cheered, having heard his name with praise attached.

'Okay, so I'm to believe that Tuffnut, OUR Tuffnut is fluent, in German?' Fishlegs slams his latest textbook shut.

'I'm right here.'

'I'm as confused as you, Fishlegs.'

'Still here, guys.'

'How are we at the same university as those three?'

'I'm also fluent in Italian, Spanish, Mandarin, and French.'

'I have no idea.'

 

 

Eventually the house began to bustle with life above the age of twenty as the day was drawing to a close, and with such an event, the promise of food arose. Soon enough, due to lack of motivation to create something that needed washing up, pizza was ordered. There were no plans to further fortify what was apparently a to scale model of Notre Dame cathedral crossed with Hogwarts with a dash of the Empire state building with a smidgeon of the Golden Gate bridge, or the fortress of lost causes and broken dreams as Jack had dubbed it. Fishlegs was starting to look for his missing pages.

When Pitch popped in to see the damage, and set up something to record, he was suitably impressed. When Hiccup asked the older man if he reckoned Jack needed to study, hoping for some support in his favour, Pitch rolled his eyes, waved his hand to Jack, who started listing off the Presidents of the United States in order, then in order of the length of their reigns, followed by naming them in order of chronological age in which they became president. 

'He's ready.' Was all Pitch offered before departing to who knew where.

 

Eventually the doorbell rung. All the boys, minus Jack, looked down at their pizzas they were steadily devouring.

'So, who's that?' Snotlout voiced, mouth still full. Tuffnut translated to something resembling English, much to the other's surprise.

'That's probably the guy from my art class, he wanted to brush up on a few things for the theoretical exam and was like 'Having a study session at mine, you should come'. He's eccentric, but fun as.' Jack explained before twisting around the structure to get out of the room.

'Heard of this guy before?' Hiccup directed to Tuffnut and Snotlout, both of which hung out with Jack a lot more on campus than Hiccup did.

'I think so. Major geek, Larps, think his name was Dan.' Snotlout answers.

'Or was it Dennis?'

'Derrik.'

'Dorian.' Snotlout and Tuffnut shoot back and forth until Jack swings the door open, mindful of hours of hard work.

'Guys, this is Dagur. Dagur, this is the guys.' Jack beams back to the new face.

Except this wasn't a new face as far as the Berk boys were concerned, and while half of them lit up with the prospect that this was their old friend, the other two recalled not so fond memories at the hands of Dagur.

Dagur laughed, reaquainting himself, before locking eyes with Hiccup.

'Hic! Is that you? You're so big now.' Dagur vaults over the Fortress of Lost Causes and Broken Dreams o stand before Hiccup, pull the other boy to his feet, and give him the kind of hug that results in Hiccup's feet being inches above the ground.

'Yeah. You to, Dagur.' Hiccup pats Dagur's back in way of reciprocation to the other boy's gesture, and to possibly indicate that now was a good time to put him down.

 

Surprisingly enough, with the addition of Dagur, study was done. Jack went over the theoretical and history content of his art exam, Snotlout discussed and went over various points and scenarios for his Military History unit, and Dagur offered feedback to Tuffnut for his performance for his music unit, in which he'd composed his own song, much to Hiccup and Fishlegs surprise.

'Do you think maybe we should try for some lighter units next semester?' Hiccup queried, eyes tiredly skimming but not taking in any information from the physics book settled in his lap.

Fishlegs gave answer by whimpering as he up ended his book bag, still in desperate search for the one missing page with the notes he needed. The guilty page slash swan if you squinted hard enough sat inconspicuously from it's perch atop the eighth wonder of the modern world.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess this is technically part one of the 'Here comes Dagur' (title still pending) arc.

**Author's Note:**

> If there are any particular misadventures or events you'd like to see, feel free to message. I only have a few things planned out at this stage myself, and I'm more than curious to see what you guys think may be happening behind the scenes.


End file.
